


Spark

by CaptainnAustralia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainnAustralia/pseuds/CaptainnAustralia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the tale of 'Former' Sherriff Stilinski's passing, and his son's reaction to it. Not really set within a canonal time-frame, however does include the firing of Mr. Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the repetitive listening to Aurora, by Hans Zimmer. For full effect, listen to this song while reading. Possibly considering adding more, but might leave it as is.

In the end, it’s nothing like he expects.

You’d think it would be _something_. And that’s easier. Because if something had caused the damage you could at least hit back. It wouldn’t make it hurt any less but it gave you… something to do. Purpose. A goal, or aim, or _something._

Years of worrying about his Dad’s heart, about his diet, about working too hard or for too long, about drinking too much. Years of checking the lock on the gun cabinet, of listening to police scanners because he had to _know_ , of pretending to sleep when his Dad finally came through the door so the man wouldn’t worry about the fact that he’d stayed up waiting for the older man to get home – just to make sure he actually did.

Oh. OH then the _supernatural_ came into it and god, wasn’t that just a whole new set of peachy nightmares.

So he did what he did best. He _learned_. He booked himself up with knowledge and bunkered himself down with books and he learned everything he could. Not just because now his best friend was part of that world and he needed to be there for the idiot, but because he only had one other person worth protecting and god _damn_ if he wasn’t smart enough to make that happen.

He did everything he could.

He lied.

He broke rules; he broke _laws_.

He did everything that was asked of him; everything that wasn’t asked of him but he did anyway because what stupid person thought he would sit still and safe while others needed him.

He made plan after plan; his backup’s backups had backups.

More often than not he came out with the short end of the stick. Did that really matter? There was a big picture and he could see it, even if everyone else could barely see their own hands if they waved it before their eyes.

So yeah. It was fair to say he didn’t expect it.

Because only his father, _only_ a Stilinski, could take all of his plans, all of his careful work, every minute he’d been in danger to make things safer, every bruise or cut or mark he’d come off with to keep things from spiralling out of control, and make _none of it matter_.

Because in the end, it wasn’t some supernatural beast or crazed hunter. It wasn’t a robbery gone wrong or a serial killer not ready to be caught. It wasn’t even his heart.

Nope.

It was Stiles blue jeep and a deer that didn’t know when to cross the road.

**************************

“Stiles,”

“Nnngghhh….”

“Stiles. Wake up.”

The hand on his shoulder shook him and he turned bleary eyes on his waker _who would be thoroughly reprimanded because how dare they wake a sleeping Sti-_ there was a sharp snapping noise as his neck cracked and he flailed away from the desk.

“Oh my god. Okay, you cannot, I repeat, _cannot_ , sneak into my room while I’m sleeping because that is crossing over into boarder-line stalkerisms and yes I know you’re already crazy stalker Sourwolf Alpha man who can do whatever he wants but coming in while I’m sleeping is like a biiggggg no-no, and way to Twilight-esk for my liking.”

Stiles sucked in a deep breath because yeah, he should have remembered to breathe before starting to talk but he felt the words had been more important at the time.

He gave Derek a quick once over – purely, well almost purely, to check for life-threatening injuries because really, that was one of the only reasons Derek every graced he, the pathetic human underling, with his godly Alpha presence and _wow he was talking out-loud wasn’t he, now would be a really god time for Derek to please not kill him_.

That was, of course, when he noticed that Derek wasn’t growling. He wasn’t even glaring.

He just sorta looked…. Constipated.

And yeah, maybe Stiles mentally snorted when he thought that because it was _funny_ and he was _allowed_ okay, he didn’t say _that_ thought out loud so the wolfman didn’t need to know.

There was a few – note, two – seconds of uncomfortable silence while Stiles waited for Derek to speak and Derek just sorta stared at him before Stiles was at it again.

“Well, considering the fact you aren’t bleeding, shaking or turning inside out I’m going to go with uninjured. Which means either someone else is injured, or dying, or dead, or will soon be injured, or dying, or dead, and I vote that person not be me because hello, way to pretty to die,” he gestured to his face, flashing a quick and if he did say so himself, _winning_ grin at the older man, before cracking his knuckles enthusiastically, “so who am I saving? Is it Scott? Did he chase the wrong furry rabbit and end up in Wonderland without the lovely Ali to be his guide?”

Stiles eyed Derek critically for a moment before sighing.

“You’re not growling. So this isn’t an emergency thing. This is a ‘I-have-a-hunch-something-is-going-to-happen-and-I’m-going-to-make-the-human-do-all-the-research-work-for-it-because-I’m-far-too-busy-brooding-for-that’ thing.”

There was still no reply from the statue imitating Derek in his bedroom.

“Well I can’t help you if you don’t say anything,” Stiles grumbled unhappily because while he was used to Derek being a man of few words this was bordering on ridiculous. Really, he hadn’t told Stiles to shut up, not even once and it had been at _least_ five minutes. That was just out of character.

Naturally that was when the doorbell rang.

Also naturally Stiles jumped almost completely out of his skin and shot Derek a withering glare because that _was_ his fault.

The doorbell rang again a few seconds later and Stiles frowned at his door, taking a hesitant step towards the hallway, glancing at Derek uncertainly, but the man still didn’t move.

He was almost sure his Dad was still home…

The doorbell was replaced by a strong knock.

“Okay. I’m getting the door,” he pointed a finger at Derek as he walked out into the hallway, “Stay.”

And yeah, he took off a little faster than necessary because like hell he was being anywhere in the same room as that man when he gave him a command like a dog that Stiles _knew_ he wouldn’t follow.

He was right of course, he could see Derek out the corner of his eye when he pulled the door open, trying, and utterly failing, to keep the grin at his own ‘stay’ joke off his lips.

It was no matter though.

The man’s presence on his doorstep was enough to do that for him.

***************************

His name was Adam Lockett.

He’d been an officer in Beckon Hills for thirteen years. He had a wife and an eleven year old daughter.

He’d worked with the Sherriff.

He was one of the few who had actively fought the decision to vote the older man out of office, because after thirteen years of working with someone you learn who’s a good person and who can get the job done and by god could that man close a case.

He knew Stiles because everybody knew Stiles – the kid that never stopped moving, who _never shut up_ , always getting into everything. You learned fast in their line of work to never, _ever_ underestimate the little bugger. Never leave files out. Never talk about ANYTHING around him.

He was too smart for his own good.

He didn’t come inside. He wanted too – he wanted to go in, check things would be okay. He gave information. He gave his condolences that sounded fake in his own ears, even though he meant them. He asked if Stiles had anywhere to stay, anyone to come over and be with him.

The kid didn’t respond to any of it. He just stood there, knuckles turning white on the door, skin getting paler and paler but not moving. Not crying or yelling or telling Adam that he was a god awful liar and why was he doing this?!

Stiles was still. He was silent.

And maybe that was scarier.

Adam almost wanted him to yell.

The second person had appeared by Stiles side somewhere around Adam’s final question about someone coming over and it took the officer a full minute to realize why he recognized the man.

It was Derek Hale and he was on all kinds of suspicious lists.

Really, Adam wanted nothing more than to grab Stiles and drag him down to the station until someone – anyone – could come and pick him up, because he was not leaving him here, with this lunatic.

That was, until the officer actually _looked_ at the Hale guy, without seeing his wanted poster – Derek wasn’t looking back at him. His eyes were glued to Stiles and that’s when Adam remembered a time when Derek had sat on the station benches without hand-cuffs, a _long_ time ago, with ash and dirt on his face and clothes and bandages on his hands from grabbing at the red hot bars of the basement windows. He’d just stared at the ground until his sister came to collect him.

When Derek spoke, his words were for Adam, but he didn’t turn.

“He’ll stay with me.”

Adam just nodded.

The man thanked him for his time and pried the door from Stiles grip, closing it slowly. Adam didn’t turn fast enough not to catch the way he slipped an arm around the younger boy’s waist, or the way it happened just in time for Stiles knees to completely give way underneath him.

He was two steps away from the house when Stiles made his first sound, loud enough that Adam could hear it clear as day, and it was finally something that Adam recognized.

Because that? That sound that was so torn and broken and desperately clawing at the air like it was being mangled by it and so very, very terrible that it almost didn’t sound like a human could make it?

Adam had heard that before. Just the once.

*********************************

The town came.

He wasn’t Sherriff anymore but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve their respect, or their goodbyes.

People got up and spoke about the deeds he had done to help them; what a man he’d been, so brave, to raise his son when his wife had died, to continue as Sherriff and gosh he’d been doing such a brilliant job. Why had they replaced him again?

Nobody could recall, not on this day.

People told Stiles it wasn’t his fault, that he shouldn’t blame himself – he couldn’t have stopped a car accident.

Those same people whispered none too quietly in the corners that if the former Sherriff hadn’t been fired, he would have been at work, no-where near the accident; that he would have been in the reinforced police cruiser, instead of in a Jeep that was falling apart and it wouldn’t have been fatal.

And they _all_ knew why Sherriff Stilinski was now former Sherriff Stilinski, now didn’t they?

Derek had needed to physically restrain Scott, barking at the rest of his pack to get Stiles away while he hauled Scott into the woods. 

Sherriff Stilinski was buried beside his wife, on the graveyard by Miller’s hill, and the town left once more.

****************************

He didn’t want to stay.

He didn’t want to go.

He wasn’t an adult, but he was close enough to one that nobody bothered him much. The town had no time for trouble makers; they knew he would take care of himself, or trusted that someone else would do it so they wouldn’t have too.

Which lead him to his current dilemma. He didn’t want to stay – but _where_ could he go. He wasn’t old enough to sell the house. Wasn’t old enough to rent an apartment. At least the mortgage had been paid off – that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. 

In the end Derek took care of it.

Derek took care of everything.

He was staying in Derek’s warehouse. Derek kept saying it was temporary and he was just waiting for the contracts to go through – Stiles didn’t know what that meant but Isaac had helpfully informed him of the fact that they were moving soon, that Derek had brought a new house in ‘freakin’ suburbia’ until the Hale property was fixed up enough for habitation.

He was sleeping in Derek’s bed. There was nothing even remotely sexual about it (in fact they were, more often than not, joined by random pack members during the night). Stiles just didn’t want to be alone.

He’d slept in his father’s bed for two months after his mother had passed.

Stiles hadn’t meant to return to school. He’d just woken up two days after the funeral and had been showered and dressed with his bag packed before he knew why. Nobody said anything and Stiles didn’t offer any conversation. He never did anymore.

Silence was how the pack knew that just because the dirt had settled didn’t mean that it was over.

Boyd just slung Stiles bag over his shoulder while Erica pushed a spare hoodie into the zipper and Isaac pulled the other over Stiles head; his red one because it was his favourite.

Or rather his new red one that Derek had gone out and bought when Stiles had burned all the clothing he’d been wearing when he got the news of his father’s death, hoodie included.

Derek drove them to school. Erica and Isaac started arguing in the back seat about something insignificant and Boyd slapped them both over the head to get them to shut up while Derek glared in the mirror. Stiles just sat with his head pressed against the glass.  

Derek caught his wrist when they stopped, holding him back while the rest of the pups scrambled from the car.

“Eat something,” Derek mumbled, not quite a growl, pressing money into Stiles hand for lunch.

Stiles nodded and moved to get out when Derek pulled him back again.

“I’ll pick you up whenever you need me too. Just let me know.”

There was another nod and then Derek was pulling him back a third time.

“Are you sure you want to go back?”

Stiles eyes flashed, but not in anger, and his lips quirked for the shortest second.

Derek could almost hear the younger man telling him to stop being a worry wolf, that all this caring was starting to make his Alpha badassary wilt, all with the tiny spark that played across his face.

Instead the expression died and Stiles just nodded a third time.

Derek let his hand slip from Stiles wrist and, before the boy could slip fully from the car, simply to test his reaction, added,

“Have a good day.”

The flash sparked again, but Stiles turned away, quickly surrounded by the pack (now joined by Scott, Alison, Lydia and to Derek’s surprise, Jackson) and Derek started the car to drive away.

He wondered briefly if Stiles would have gone with _yes dear_ or _yes mother_ or maybe even a _but I’m practicing my brooding! I’ll never hit Sourwolf level brooding if I go doing stupid things like ‘having a good day’_

The spark meant something good though. Stiles was still in there. He just had to heal a little before he came out.

 


End file.
